Persistence
by hpbestbook
Summary: Voldemort wasn't a procrastinator and the world is a different place because if it. AU. H/Hr
1. Party Poopers on Privet Drive

It might surprise you, but Hermione Granger is very popular. With her short, trendy, straight brown hair, and a wonderful tan, even in the winter, even in England. Most of the people she meets peg her for a cute but dumb type, because of her beautiful but vacant looking eyes. In reality Hermione Granger is anything but stupid, but nobody she knows understands that about her. All they care about is that she is nice, easy to manipulate (or so they think), and pretty enough to get attention where they might not have if they weren't with her.

In the rare moments of honesty with themselves, her "friends" admit silently that they are just using her, that they don't know too much about her, but they quickly wash away any guilt with shallow reassurances that their really isn't anything more to learn about her. What you see is what you get with Hermione Granger, right? She is the whole package of cliché popularity after all, pretty, dumb and seemingly nice.

Her friends feel secure with that notion every time they see her staring into space, a small smile on her lips, completely oblivious to the things around her. But her friends are wrong, which isn't surprising at all because her friends are idiots. Hermione is very much aware of the world around her, the small smile not being one of idiotic contentment but of quiet mockery. Her face vacant not because of empty thoughts, but because of so many, and all of them focused on things far away or way ahead of the people around her.

Not only are her friends wrong about her intelligence, they are wrong about her beauty. She thinks that she looks plain, with the same hair, makeup, and clothing as the people around her. If the people she knew now looked at pictures of her as a child, the would be shocked. They would say that she was an ugly duckling when she was a kid and now she has blossomed into a swan, but when Hermione looks at old pictures, usually with a bitter or wistful smile, she wishes she hadn't changed. Her hair was a large, long, frizzy mass of brown curls, perhaps it could be considered horrible looking, but it was unique. Her skin pale as moonlight, but healthy, unlike the complete unnaturalness of her skin now.

The biggest difference by far was the smile. Her front teeth were large and buck-tooth, but her smile was wide and genuine. Her smiles always being the ones that happened with out her consent, by the mirth simply taking the corners of her mouth and spreading them across her face. Now her smile is perfect with straight white teeth. Her smile always wide, but somehow looking more like barred teeth than a sign of happiness.

But the thing her friends are most wrong about is her being popular. Hermione Granger has no friends. Even after she went through so much effort to become socially acceptable. At first, after her family moved, when she had started at a completely new school, with her new look, when she was making friends by the bucketful, she felt victorious. But after the novelty of companionship wore off, she realized she was in quite a predicament.

The realization came to her halfway through lunch one day. She was sitting there with her friends, laughing, laughing, laughing, until her face hurt. She was thinking about how wonderful it is to just laugh and laugh, and tried to recall what was so funny. She couldn't remember. It came to her that they just started to laugh, perhaps because they felt it was time to sound happy, but there was nothing funny said, no wit used. It struck her then how fake all the laughter was. Then she realized it wasn't just the laughter that was fake, but everything else was too.

She stopped laughing, and spent the rest of the day pondering over what she should do now that she knew that everything was a sham. She kept wondering, and kept not laughing, and kept on with her serious face, until her friends started to avoid her a little. Hermione realized that her friends were distancing themselves from her and with that she had a sudden feeling of panic, and another realization.

Something else that might surprise you about Hermione Granger is that she is addicted to a drug. Sometimes she wishes it were crack rather than the drug which she injects, inhales, and sniffs everyday. That drug is popularity. While her existence now is a mere shadow of what it should be, it was better than being alone. Because while she recognizes that she is living an empty shell of a life, she simply can't let go of the companionship, can't let go of the euphoria of being known in her school by everybody, can't let go of the power. At the end of everyday she feels drained and disgusted with herself, but she still wakes up every morning an hour and a half before school, and makes herself into the person people want her to be.

Overall, Hermione isn't a happy camper.

Her parents notice of course, and worry. Hermione at home is the one they know and love, but the Hermione they see wandering off to school every morning is not at all the same. They can't understand why their wonderful, brilliant, beautiful daughter goes off to school everyday looking plain and vacant. Her mother sits her down every once and a while and talks to her about how she doesn't need to be popular, she just needs to have a few good friends to feel complete socially, that pretending to be someone else isn't healthy, and it doesn't really make any friends.

Hermione agrees with every word her moms says, and thinks tomorrow she will leave her hair curly, not wear make up, and wear her uniform to regulations, rather than like a sleaze the next day. She wakes up the next morning certain that she will do it this time, but she looks at her hair, and her proper looking uniforms, and can suddenly hear her friends scornful remarks, or worse, their backhanded complements and distant body language. She can imagine them ignoring her, or coercing her into looking how she used to. She feels panicked then quickly does what she can to look how she does everyday. As she goes out the front door, her mom waves her off, always with a disappointed frown, and a question in her eyes. Hermione's only answer every time is the desperate look in her eyes, reminisce of the junkies who wander the streets of the city.

Today was one of those days.

" Have a nice day honey." Her mother says, not with any real conviction.

Hermione smiles at her, perfect white teeth all in a perfectly straight row, waves, and closes the door behind her, heading up the street to the bus stop.

There her friends are, a few of them that is, straight hair, some long, some brown, some blond, but somehow all looking the same.

"God, how does Hermione even get into higher grades? I swear, there is nothing going on in her head!" They all laugh, like something was funny, when one of the girls notices Hermione coming up the street. The other girls notice her looking and all turn, big smiles popping up on their faces, wide, tight, not even close to reaching their eyes.

" Hermione, your hair is a little wavy, it looks nice!" The girl who commented, Nikki, grabs her hand and pulls her into the circle.

Hermione smiles and says in a absent sort of voice, "Thank you, I thought I would try something different." She turns her head away from Nikki and shows her teeth to the other people in the circle. But Hermione just didn't have enough time to straighten her hair fully, lasting a little longer this morning than others before collapsing back into habit. Hermione knew her friends didn't like it, she heard some of them snickering, and out of the corner of her eye could see their mocking glances. Hermione felt her chest tighten and to get some relief she went further into her head, thinking about the book she was reading on the history of France. She nodded and laughed at a few points and no one noticed that she wasn't really there.

"Hermione, the bus is here." One of the girls nudged her before walking onto the bus. Hermione sighed and followed.

School was miserable, but in that way that makes her want more. On occasion Hermione wondered if she was a bit of a masochist, enjoying the misery. She would hear some scathing comment from a friend, then give a scathing comment to some people she meets in a hallway, feeling a sick sort of satisfaction with their devastated expressions, then go pretend to fail a test that she actually will get an A on. She would then spend some time waiting for the bus, which is always late, hanging out with her friends, noticing the way some of the boys looked at her, like she was a piece of cake and it was their birthday, and feeling both disrespected and flattered.

No mattered how the day varies from that, she can't help but feel so very relieved when she gets off the bus and separates from her friends. Except today they didn't separate from her.

"Hermione, why don't you go to a party with us? It is Friday night after all." They all looked at her, almost daring her to refuse. Hermione sighed knowing that it wasn't one of the parties that she could wiggle her way out of.

" Sure, where and when?"

"8 o'clock, number four Privet Drive. The host is some big boxing champion, whose is kind of ugly, but he has a lot of cute friends. Here, I'll give you the directions." Nikki supplied.

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"Hermione, are you sure you want to do this?" Martha asks, face full of doubt and concern.

Hermione is dying to say no, that she would rather shave all of her hair off, but doesn't. Instead she turns to her mother and says, "Is this skirt too short?"

Her mother, noticing it for the first time, looks a bit horrified. "Y-Yes!" She gasps out.

"Perfect." Hermione mutters to herself, while picking out a regular looking tank top, "I don't have to wear a belly top then."

"Your not going out like that! You look like a street walker!" Martha, getting over the shock, puts her foot down. "No way, you would look much cuter in…in this!" Her mother pulls something randomly out of her closet, gasping in horror when it turns out to be a camisole nightgown. "NO! That's not what I meant." Martha says in a hurry, looking desperately at Hermione.

"You know what Mom, I think you're right, that would look cuter." Hermione said smirking.

"No, no, just go, and be careful, this is chaperoned, right?" Her mom asks as she hangs the nightgown back in the closet.

"Of course." Hermione replies, though she doesn't actually know but highly doubts that it is.

"I want you back by 12:30, ok? No later or I'm going to tell your father that you have that…those pajamas." Martha says looking despairingly back into Hermione's closet.

"Don't worry mom, I'll even try to be home sooner than then." Hermione turns to grab her jacket.

"Don't you need a lift?" Martha asks, frowning a little in confusion, following Hermione down the stairs to the front door.

"No, its close enough for me to just walk to it." Before Martha could object to that, Hermione had already open the door and started walking down the path. But once she was far enough away for Martha not to chase after her, she yelled back into the open doorway, where the silhouette of her mother still stood. "Though I guess this really does make me a street walker, doesn't it?" ,before running off.

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A boy was throwing up in a potted plant three feet to the left of her, the splashing sound was mixing with his gasping and the thumping of the music around her. It was giving her a headache. She was sitting on a couch, wishing desperately that she wasn't there.

The party was definitely not chaperoned. Beer cans littered everything, people were smoking pot, among other things, in practically every corner of the house, and people were making out on the floor, most of them Hermione's friends. A few people were upstairs in the bedrooms, having sex, probably unprotected, one of them being Nikki. Hermione wondered if tomorrow she would ask Hermione for money to get the day-after pill. Such fun things to think about while sitting on a couch, listening to a person finishing his throwing up.

"Oh great, the throw-up-boy is leering at me now." Hermione whispered to herself, quickly getting up and moving through the mass of people, until she got to the kitchen.

Evidentially the kitchen turned into the pass-out-room, because it was littered with unconscious bodies. At this, the whole thing became more serious. It's scary, seeing a room full of bodies. Hermione quickly went around checking pulses, making sure they were just passed out rather than dying from alcohol poisoning. When she knew that they were all ok, she shoved one off of a chair, and sat down, head in her palms, being happy that at least it was quieter in there.

All Hermione was aware off was the stench of alcohol, vomit, urine, and her own thoughts, which were asking why she wasn't just leaving now. Admittedly, it was only 12:00, but she didn't think that anyone would notice if she left. But, someone still might, and she couldn't have that happen again after leaving the last party at 10:30, in which her friends mocked her for a very stressful month.

Then she became aware of the back door opening.

"God, this smells awful. Piss drunk indeed."

Hermione lifted her head our of her hands, blinking a few time to stop them from sticking together, and turned her torso to the back door.

"Oh look, one of them is awake." A boy with the messiest black hair she had ever seen and the most striking green eyes smirked at her. Her mouth hung open for a moment and he started stepping over bodies, making his way to the table, stopped at one body, and looks down at him closely.

"Oh hey, it's Polkiss." Then he backtracked a little and stepped on his fingers for a moment before continuing on.

"Did you wake up amongst this? I'd imagine that would have been rather frightening." He smiles at her kindly, taking a set across the table from her.

"N-no, I, err… I haven't… I'm not drunk or anything." Hermione blushed, then got a grip. For the love of God girl, pull yourself together, so he's cute, it's not like you haven't been around cute boys before. She thought, mentally backhanding herself.

"Oh… then why are you in here?" he asks, head slightly tilted to the side.

"It's quieter, and less disgusting, if you can imagine." Hermione mentally patted herself on the back for being coherent this time.

"Hmm, I think I'll stay in here then. But I will open some windows." He got up and shifted through some bodies, kicking a few of them as he passed. He bent over the counter, stretching a little to reach the window. Hermione notices that he seemed to be a little on the short side, still a good deal taller than Hermione, who is petite, but definitely shorter than then the majority of the boys she knows.

"How old are you?" Hermione asked suddenly, and blushed, realizing that it was a bit of a random question.

"17, turned just three months ago." He said making his way back to her. "How about you?" He sat down.

"17, I turned just a few weeks ago." Hermione looks down at her hands, like she is fascinated with her pink nail polish.

"I'm Harry, by the way, Harry Potter. You haven't seen Dudley around have you?" He suddenly looked around, like he expected this Dudley to come crawling out from below one of the bodies.

"Um, Dudley?" Hermione asked, looking up at him, slightly embarrassed, guessing that she should probably already know who this is.

Harry laughed a little, then opened his mouth to respond. He was stopped by a girl named Elizabeth.

"God Hermione, you're so stupid! This is Dudley's house, you twit, shouldn't you know whose house your going to before you go there?" She laughs and a very large boy enters behind her, then slings his big gorilla arm around her.

"Yeah, who the fuck are ya? What the fuck ya doin' in my house?" He slurred, pointing at her with a fist holding a bottle of vodka. He squinted at her closer and then shrug, "Whatever, she's pretty, so who gives a fuck?" Elizabeth glared at Hermione, then pouted a little.

"But she is soooo stupid, I mean she would even annoy you." She laughed a little, then stopped, realizing that she just insulted him also, but true to form, he doesn't notice.

"You know how I know that she isn't smart?" Dudley said, swaggering further into the room and tripping on one of the unconscious, they both grunted at the same time, then Dudley straightened a little, and slurred "I know cuz she is talking to this loser. Who the fuck said you could be here, Potter?"

"The law, unfortunately." Harry tilts back in his chair a little.

"Why don't you and…and…" Dudley struggled.

"Hermione." Elizabeth supplied.

"Yeah, Hermim…Hermico, that girl that Liz doesn't like, get out." Dudley said leaning forward in a way that Dudley must have thought was threatening.

"I don't think so Dudley, why don't you go finish off that vodka, go upstairs and have your mates defenestrate you?" Liz and Dudley looked confused , but Hermione laughed, enjoying the mental image of Dudley being thrown out a window.

"That's sick Potter, I'm not gay." Dudley yelled, thinking the word had something to do with sex.

"I doesn't have anything to do with being gay, Dudley, but I do think that it's funny that's where your mind goes." Harry said smiling at Hermione, who smiled back, the corners of her mouth being pulled across her face.

They stopped smiling when they noticed some of Dudley friends, all looking drugged out of their minds, stepping into the kitchen and starting to glare at Harry, and leer at Hermione.

Harry sighed, "We should probably go." Hermione nodded and they both stood up and, stepping over unconscious, and some waking bodies, they left the kitchen through the back door.

Hermione heard the door click behind her, but she didn't really notice because she was gulping down the fresh (or at least fresher) air, "I'm so glad to be out of that house." Hermione said tilting her head up.

"I've been wanting to say that for as long as I can remember." Harry said, standing next to her, taking in deep breaths as well. "But unfortunately I can't really just yet."

"Do you live there?" Hermione couldn't believe it, Harry and Dudley couldn't be brothers, they looked nothing alike.

They started to walk across the backyard, where the gate was, and as he was opening it, he said, "Yes, Dudley is my cousin; I live with my aunt and uncle. Where do you live? I'll walk you home."

Hermione wondered if it was very smart, letting a boy she met 10 minuets ago walk her home, and know where she lived, but she did know where he lived, so she guessed that him knowing where she lived wasn't all that big of a deal. Plus, she just didn't feel remotely in danger with him. "This way," she said, pointing left. They started to walk.

"How far is it?"

"Not far."

There was silence, very much of the awkward variety. Then, "So, how come you live with your aunt and uncle?" Hermione asked, trying to think of something to talk about. She could have hit herself for picking that, what a personal question. "I'm sorry, you don't have to…"

"No," Harry interrupted her, "it's ok. My parents died when I was one, in a car accident."

"I'm sorry, I really wasn't trying to bring up anything sad." Hermione gave in and hit her forehead with her fist.

"No worries, it was a very long time ago, after all." Harry said, giving her a forgiving smile.

"I take it you don't like your Aunt and Uncle very much." Hermione blurts out, then covers her mouth with her hand. "I'm sorry, I'm really not usually so nosey. Turn here." She said pointing down a side street. "It's really none of my concern." She looked up at him, an apologetic grimace on her face.

"It's fine, really. No, I don't like them very much, Dudley is a lot like his parents in a way, and you meet him."

"His parents are drunk all the time?" Hermione said, feeling a flash of concern for Harry.

Harry laughs, "No, though Vernon, my uncle, does drink fairly often. I meant that they're stupid and angry."

"That does sound unpleasant. Lets move on to something else then. Um…What's your favorite book?" Hermione asks with sudden enthusiasm. She blushes a little, knowing she showed some of her vast stores of inner-dork. Harry doesn't seem to notice or care though.

"I don't know, I like a lot of books, too many to just pick one. I think my favorite type is action, or horror."

"Ha, very manly picks, though I guess you don't seem like a person who reads romance novels." She says, laughing a little.

"How about you?"

"Oh I love history, so I like books that involve that somehow, whether it is a fictional or not. Turn here." She stops herself there, knowing that she could rant about books for hours.

"Oh, I bet you're a closet romance novel fan." He said smirking at her.

"I…I, that's, …your… I am not!" Hermione says finally, blushing terribly, and groans inwardly about having to step under a street light just then. Harry sees her and starts to laugh.

"I was only joking, but you really are." He stops laughing after awhile and looks down at her, "I think that's great though, everyone should have a little romance in their lives, fictional or not." They walk a little more in silence, the atmosphere suddenly tense.

"It's not that I read really bad melodramatic romance, it has to be well written." Hermione said, breaking the tension. "If it isn't well written, then I can't get into it and that is a large part of why I read all the time. I need it to be real enough to get away from the world around me, you know?"

"Yes, I do." Harry said, but with such conviction that Hermione looked up at him curiously. "I've talked about how much my aunt and uncle suck. I also happen to not have any friends, so half of my liking to read is from boredom and half just to get away. Is it the same for you?" He asked quietly, concern forming a slight frown on his face.

Hermione felt ridiculously shallow and ashamed all of a sudden. "No, my parents are wonderful, but my friends are jerks. I don't know why I'm friends with them, really. No matter how much I dislike them, I can't seem to make myself stop hanging out with them." Hermione scowled in frustration.

"Hmmm, so you have the being lonely in a crowd problem. I don't know why you would want to be friends with them either, if your friends are friends with Dudley, it says something bad about their character. You don't like Dudley, do you?", Harry asked, looking at her a little sternly.

"From the impression I got after meeting him for five minuets, I think I wouldn't like him at all." She said with a small smile.

"That's good, and it already makes you much smarter and prettier than your friends." He said with a small smile also.

Hermione blushes a little, thankfully with out walking under a street lamp this time. She looks closely at him, thinking.

"you and him really don't look anything alike, even for cousins." Hermione said mentally comparing Harry and Dudley.

"Yes, I know, I think my mum must have looked a lot different from my aunt, but I don't know really." he said frowning.

Hermione felt confused by this, how could he not know, but before she could ask they arrived at her house.

"This is my house." They stop outside her front gate. "Thank you for walking me home."

"No problem, hope to see you around then."

They smile at each other, then stand there for a few more seconds.

"Well, bye!" Hermione says, opening her gate and stepping through, she waves a little, a bright smile on her face. "I hope to see you again too."

"Bye" Harry says, waving a little also.

They stand there a little longer, say bye one more time, and head their separate ways, looking back at each other every so often, every once and awhile catching the other one doing so, at which point they blushed, and waved again. Eventually Hermione reached her front door, and Harry turned the corner. They both felt a little disappointed.

"Hermione, you're five minuets late!" Her mother said looking at her as she opened the door.

"Really? I left the party about with time to spare." Hermione was amazed, why did it take her so long to get home?

"Don't look so surprised, if you and that boy walked any slower, you'd be going backwards. Also, you spent about 5 minutes talking to him outside, and practically another 5 walking up the path, waving to him every three seconds." Her father, Charles, said.

Hermione blushed for the what felt like fiftieth time that night.

"I did not! I mean, we just were having a nice talk." Hermione blushed again and looked down, trying to hide her face.

"So, who is he?" Her mother asked, excited to see her daughter looking happy and more like herself after an outing rather than drained and vacant.

"His name is Harry, Harry Potter. He likes to read!" Hermione said, not being able to keep that little bit to herself. "He's so nice." Hermione added, thinking over there conversation.

"Is he cute?" Martha asked, guessing at the answer. Charles leaned forward a little, wanting to know the answer also.

"Oh, yes," Hermione said absently, her mind still on the walk home. "He has this messy black hair, and the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. I think that he has a scar on his forehead, though, I just realized." She hadn't thought of it, always being distracted by his eyes before she could think on it too long, "It's not very noticeable though." She added.

"Oh great Martha, she has a crush, I thought we could have avoided this until university, but I guess our luck just ran out." Her dad said, mostly joking, and a little disappointed.

"I do not, I only talked to him for less than an hour after all. That's not enough time to get a crush on someone, really." Hermione said, logically.

"Are you going to see him again?" Martha asked with a questioning smile. Charles looked curious also.

"I…I don't think so, He doesn't go to my school, and it's not too likely that there will be a party we both attend again anytime soon." Hermione's face fell a little and her parents even looked a little disappointed, they haven't seen there daughter so much herself in a while.

"Well, I'm tired, good night." Hermione said, making her way up stairs.

"'Night Honey." Martha said.

"'Night Munchkin." Charles said.

Hermione, after brushing her teeth and changing into pajamas, laid down in bed, feeling a little disappointed. She really didn't have a reason to see him again after all, other than wanting to. She frowned and huffed and rolled over and it suddenly came to her. She forgot her jacket at his house, she would be able to go and get it tomorrow, hopefully he would be the one to answer the door, because the rest of the family sounded unpleasant, but it would be worth the risk. Smiling for what felt like the fiftieth time that night, Hermione fell asleep.


	2. Dirty Houses

Harry decided he liked to be pleasantly surprised. Mostly because it didn't happen to him very often. Or ever. He usually associated surprises with bad things. Like surprise attacks, surprise groundings, or surprise chores. Really, after awhile none of those things became surprises any longer, and he would only use the word sarcastically. "Oh surprise, somehow it becomes my responsibility to clean Dudley's room." and "What a surprise, Dudley and his friends are waiting to attack me in the dark.", became common thoughts. Therefore Harry had almost always utilized surprise as a word of sarcasm in unpleasant situations. But as a pleasant thing, surprises were really good.

He hadn't been all that surprised when he walked into the Dursley's house, after avoiding it for as long as possible, and found a girl sitting at the table. She looked tired and strained, and he just pinned her for a person rousing from a party coma. Usually he just ignored such people and continued on, but she looked miserable, so he thought he'd help out a little.

He was surprised, in a not remotely sarcastic way, when she turned out to be sober. She looked like she belonged there, with her pretty but unremarkable face and manufactured hair and skin. However, when she spoke, her words rung out clear and sober, something intelligent glinting in her eyes.

He decided it was that, and his chivalrous streak, that made him walk her home. Alright, perhaps it was also not having anything else to do until the people at the party were too stoned to notice him, but it was still a nice walk. The girl asked some surprisingly personal questions right off the bat, which he would usually find annoying, but she looked so flustered by her own questioning that he couldn't get angry, or annoyed, but rather he found it funny.

So over all he was pleasantly surprised that a person who looked like another clone, turned out to have more to her. He wished that she didn't try to fit in with everyone else though, because he imagined that she would be a thousand times prettier if she looked like herself. But this wasn't his largest concern at the moment. The house was filthy and he only had until 2, when Vernon and Petunia would get back, to clean it up. All the people were gone, except for Dudley, who was passed out upstairs. Harry didn't delude himself into thinking that Dudley would clean it, because he would assume (and rightly so) that if Harry didn't clean it up, Dudley could just blame it on Harry and get away scotch free. On the other hand Harry knew that if he didn't clean it up he wouldn't be getting away scotch free, in fact he is pretty certain he would have a lot of scotch, enough to last him a long time.

Harry stood there staring around the disgusting house, fists and jaw clenched, mind burning with injustice, not for the first time in his life. He breathed deep and buried it all inside, along with all the other emotions he had suppressed over the years, and wondered if they were ever going to resurface, and when they did if they would express themselves with a killing spree or some form of arson, or perhaps insane laughter changing into crazy crying and ending in rash robbing sprees.

The doorbell rang and Harry shook himself out of his contemplation of insane crimes he might be committing in the future because of his unhealthy coping strategies and answered the door. Another pleasant surprise, two in two days, a record for sure.

The girl, Hermione, he thought her name was, was standing at his front door, hair curly, and no make up on, wearing regular clothing. He was right, a thousand times more pretty when she looked like herself.

"Yes?" He asked, smiling.

"Um, I…I left my jacket here." She said, shifting nervously, touching her hair self consciously.

"It could be anywhere, this place is a pig sty. You might want to come again later, after I have cleaned up some, I'll place the jackets left behind in pile for you." He stopped smiling, thinking of all the work he had to do. She stopped smiling also.

"Your cousin isn't going to help you? It was his party after all." She asked, looking past him into the disaster zone that is number four Privet Drive. She grimaced, and looked at him with pity. "That's an awful mess you have there. When do your aunt and uncle get back?" She asked probably already guessing the answer of the first question.

"2:00." He sighed.

"It's already 11:00! How do plan on cleaning all that up by 2:00?" She asked slightly alarmed for him.

"I don't know, but I have to try."

"Why? Won't your cousin get in trouble? He sounds like a jerk, why should you care?" Hermione asked, hoping he wouldn't think less of her for her questioning why he was helping his cousin.

He snorted, "If I thought that Dudley, instead of me, was going to get blamed for this, I would start tearing up things myself. Sadly, that's not going to happen, if I don't clean this, I'll get blamed for the party. The Dursley's are very, very stupid, especially about their son. So I'll have to get started, come back around 1:00, and we'll see if we can find your jacket."

Hermione bit her lip and looked around a little awkwardly, trying to find the right words. After a moment she said, "My parents were a little angry that I forgot my jacket here, so I would really love to go home with it. Beyond that, I would like to offer my help in cleaning up your house. It looks like way too much work to get done in that little amount of time." She looked at him then, waiting for an answer. Harry sat there, surprised, pleasantly, for a third time. No one had ever offered to help him. He wasn't quite sure what to do.

"Th… thank you, but I couldn't ask you to do that." There, he felt like that was a good response.

"Really, I think that you need help. This place is filthy, and I need to find my jacket, so why not?" She asked, looking encouragingly at him.

Harry felt a little split on this, he really did need help, but he didn't want to owe her, and it feels wrong, having someone who is almost a stranger help him clean up.

"This will also be payback for you walking me home yesterday." She said, guessing at why he was hesitating.

That sealed it for him. "I…Thank you very much, I mean seriously." He let out in a rush of gratitude. That was something new for him also, because usually he never feels gratitude towards people. He wasn't sure how much he liked it.

She smiled at him and brushed passed him, looking around the house and turned to him, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Let's start with the living room and move from there." She practically ordered him.

He had an impulse to salute and stand up straighter, but held off and instead corked a lazy grin at her and nodded. The rest of the three hours went like that. He would have protested, but all of her commands made sense, and were more efficient than his ideas, and also, she was doing him a rather large favor, with out any particular reason, so he didn't even comment on it. Plus, he found it oddly endearing. It wasn't like she was trying to be mean to him, she just was in a problem solving mind set. He would have bet money that she'd feel embarrassed about it later.

By 1:56 the house looked almost as good as it usually did, without any real signs that a large party happened there. Harry and Hermione were standing in the middle of living room, out of breath, looking for all the world like they had just out-ran some horrible monster.

"Thank you again, I wouldn't have been able to do this with out you." Harry said, wishing there could be more he could say or do.

"No problem, it was…well, I wouldn't say fun, but I guess it was nice to get something done, I feel oddly accomplished" She looked around the living room again with a victorious expression.

"Yeah, I think I know what you mean." And he really did, it felt like he had just fought some sort of creature and come out of it alive and all in tact. "Who knew that cleaning a house could make me feel a little like a gladiator." He said looking at her with a grin.

She stared at him for a second, then snorted, something she hadn't done in a while, and said, "Boys." before starting to take off her cleaning gloves. Harry did the same, while checking on the clock. It was 2:00.

"Oh no." Harry said, the blood draining out of his face.

Hermione looked at the clock also and frowning asked him, "What's the matter, the house is clean?" As she said that the sound of a car pulling in the driveway came through the open windows.

He suddenly grabbed her arm and hissed, "It isn't the house , it's you."

Hermione looked offended and confused and tried to pull her arm away, but Harry has a very strong grip, and she couldn't get out of it. The sound of doors closing from outside could be heard, along with a man's grumbling, "I don't feel like taking the luggage in, we'll have the boy do it." Then the sound of heavy foot steps and high heels clicking could be heard coming up the path way.

"Oh God. They can't see you, you'll have to hide somewhere, I'll distract them." Harry let go of her and started to go to the front door. He looked back at her, where Hermione stood frozen, surprised, "Please." He hissed, before heading to the front door.

Hermione stood there panicking, feeling like she was playing hide and go seek, and the person was almost done counting but she hadn't found a place to hide yet. She stood there, hands flapping a little, looking around for a place to hide. Through the door she saw another smaller door. She heard the front door opening and opened and semi-crawled into the cupboard under the stairs. She closed the door just as she heard Harry's aunt and uncle come fully through the door.

"What are you doing standing right by the door?" She heard an unpleasant male voice ask.

"Um… nothing." Harry said.

A long moment of silence and then, "Go get our luggage, it is in the trunk, it should still be open." A high pitched, nasally voice ordered him.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." Harry said, oddly monotone.

Hermione said crouched in the closet, with something digging into her back, it felt a like broom, but she couldn't be too sure because it was dark. The place smelled heavily of cleaning supplies. Hermione held off a cough as she heard Harry's aunt and uncle walk passed the closet on their way to the kitchen. They were talking about how awful the traffic was, and how much the missed their little Dudley while they were in France for a long weekend. The rest of the conversation was dulled out by the closed kitchen door.

Hermione let out the cough and began to look around, now that her eye sight had adjusted to the lack of lighting. She turned around and saw that it was indeed a broom digging into her back. She moved it.

"This is ridiculous." Hermione whispered to herself. She looked around some more and saw that it was a pretty large space for a cupboard under the stairs and that she would be able to move around a little. So she did and she rested her head against the door frame of the cupboard, the little light from the crack between the floor and the door shinning in a strip across her face. She sighed, listening to Harry clacking and puffing up the walk way with the Dursley's luggage. As she heard him shuffling into the living room, she noticed something etched into the wooden paneling.

She stared at it for a bit, and her eye sight adjusted a little more. It was written very badly, and was almost illegible, but after a few minutes of deciphering it, she finally let out a little gasp of understanding, a then another gasp of horror. It said, "Harry's room." She put her hand on her mouth and scooted away from it a little, looking a little more closely at the room around her. It was obvious it wasn't still being used as a room because it really was full of cleaning supplies, but she could imagine it empty of most cleaning supplies, and full of a cot, old clothes and a few broken toys.

She was distracted from her troubling realization with the sound of an angry shrill voice. She could only make out a few words of what she was saying, something about two and plates missing. Hermione gasped again, how could his aunt notice that two plates were broken, there were a lot of similar kinds of plates. She guessed that Harry's aunt might be a little anal, because of how clean Harry needed things to be, but still, it was only two plates. She heard a quieter muttering, probably Harry, then a small bellow, probably from his uncle, then a loud smacking sound.

Hermione stared at the cupboard door in horror, guessing that Harry just got hit by his uncle. Hermione suddenly wanted to see her parents very badly. She heard heavy footsteps and clacking high heels go past the door again. Then the shrill women said, "If Dudley wakes up, tell him that we just went to the grocery store to fill up the refrigerator. And put the luggage upstairs."

The angry sounding man grunted and added, "Try not to break it, you useless klutz." A little silence, than the door opening and closing. She heard Harry coming closer to the cupboard door. She panicked a little, trying to think how to act. She quickly comes to the conclusion that Harry wouldn't respond to sympathy, or to her knowing at all, all that well and decides to pretend that she doesn't know what happened.

The door opened, and she blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the sudden bright light. She crawles out of the cupboard and stands up straight, brushing off her clothes and looks up at him. He looked at her warily.

"D…did something break? I thought I heard a cracking sound." Hermione supplied for him, looking at his eyes when she finished.

He looked away, "Yes something broke, it's no big deal." He looked back at her. They stared silently, both knowing that the other knew that they were lying, but pretending anyway.

"Um, well, I have to go. I don't think my parents thought I was going to be gone that long, so…um good luck with your ev…grumpy, aunt and uncle." Hermione said, starting to walk towards the door.

"I'll walk you home, I know it isn't dark or anything, but if you would like some companionship…?" Harry asked, looking at her hopefully. Hermione didn't want to leave things so awkwardly, which Hermione thought Harry might be aiming at also, and nodded.

They walked, the silence awkward and strained, Hermione cast around her head for something to talk about, "What school do you go to?"

He looked at her gratefully and said, "Stonewall."

Hermione grimaced, remembering all the rumors she had heard about it, none of them good. "I've heard some pretty bad things about that place." She looked up at him curiously, wondering what his take on it was.

"Yes, it's a shit hole." Harry growled, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Why?" Hermione asked, too curious to care that it seemed a sensitive topic.

He sighed and kicked a rock on the ground as they walk. "I could have just keep my head low, and than maybe after awhile I would have made some friends, but on the first day of school I made a spectacle of myself and it all went down hill from there."

He looked down at Hermione, she was staring at him with wide curious eyes, "What did you do?" She asked, a little smile tugging at the corner of her lips, thinking that it would probably something humiliating, like forgetting your trousers or something.

"You're not going to believe me." He said stopping outside of her fence.

"Try me." Hermione said, thinking of her many unexplainable stories.

He considered her for a moment, and with a small huff leaned against her fence. "I saw this big guy beating up a kid, I mean just hitting really hard, and no one was helping, everyone was staring or cheering, but not a soul cared that this kid was probably going to have really bad internal bleeding. I don't know what happened, but I just snapped. I was so tired of bullies." Harry paused, and Hermione looked down, thinking of his family. He started speaking again and Hermione couldn't help but look back up at him.

"So I jumped in there, and I put my hand to the bully's chest, like I planned to shove him away, he just sneered at me a lifted his hand, about to hit me, when…when, I don't know, there was a bit of a red light and he went flying, like 3 or 4 meters. I know it sounds crazy, but it's what happened. Then for about a week people were frightened of me, than bigger bullies tried to see if I would do it to them, but I couldn't make it happen again. So, for a while I was a punching bag, now, I'm pretty much just ignored. I'm a social pariah. People actually try to stay away from me as much as possible, like they're afraid I'm going to give them a dork infection or something."

"That sounds lonely." Hermione whispered.

"Better to be lonely than try to get any of those fools approvals." He said, looking at her significantly for a second. "The part about a red light shoving someone 3 meters back doesn't faze you?" He asked, changing the subject as Hermione opened her mouth to defend herself.

She closed it and stared at him for a long moment. "No. I have had odd moments also, things that look like there floating, or things changing color when I don't like it. I've given up trying to figure it out."

Harry looked at her curiously, "I once turned my teacher's wig blue."

Hermione straightened up, looking at him just as curiously back. "I changed a puke yellow shirt in to a lovely green color. When I tried to explain to my mom, she just didn't believe me, said that those things don't happen. But it did, so I don't know how she could say that."

They stared at each other for a long moment, then Hermione did something she didn't think she would ever have the courage to do. "Wait here, I'll go get something to write down my phone number on, we need to talk about this more, because it sounds like there is too much in common for this to not be related to each other." Harry nodded and Hermione ran into the house. A minute later she reappeared with a napkin with numbers written on it.

"Please, I really want to try and figure at least something out." Hermione said handing him the napkin.

"I would like to know also." Harry said earnestly. "I'll call, probably not until next weekend though." He looked at her apologetically.

"That's fine, really. Bye." She gave a small wave and smile and he did too. They went there separate ways.

Hermione took awhile to fall asleep that night, her mind full of questions she had long ago started to ignore. But somehow, the last thing she thought of before drifting off was Harry's words about rather being lonely than trying to get fools approvals.

----------------------------------

Hermione's mom smiled at her, full of surprise the next morning. She gave her a hug and whispered in her ear right before she left that she looked beautiful. Hermione smiled back at her, uncertain, afraid, but with determination. Today, Hermione would get off the crack, once and for all. Her curls bounced on her walk to the bus.

"Her…Hermione, you aren't wearing any make up." One girl said pointing, her mouth a little open.

"Your hair! Did you get it permed? I don't know if that was the best idea Hermione." Nikki, who looked a little worn out, said, a little more viciously than seemed appropriate.

Elizabeth scoffed and pointed at her skirt, "Look at her uniform too, why do you look like such a prude today?"

Oddly Hermione thought of her time in the cupboard at Harry's house, the little written sign and the sound of the smack, and it came to her that none of this was anything compared to that. It was a freeing moment.

"I got tired of looking like a whore." Hermione said and smiled when they all gasped.

"Hermione, you looked so much prettier the way you did before, why are you doing this now? Do you want people to think you're a dork?" A girl asked, sounding malicious and curious at the same time.

"I am a dork. I have a 4.5 GPA and read books on history for fun. My hair looks like this naturally and I don't think that I looked better the way I looked before. I think I looked like all of you people, and lets be honest here, that isn't all that amazing." Hermione said this looking them all in the eye, her voice acrimonious.

They all had identical looks of angry disgust on their faces, "Wow, fine then, be a bitch, see if you have any friends ever again." The bus came, they all sat as far away as possible from her, but still managed to have their whispers about how useless she is carry across the bus. Hermione smirked at them.

Still, the rest of the day was rather hard. She hadn't felt so invisible for a long time, even the teachers didn't recognize her at first. They, however, smiled encouragingly at her when they figured things out. Her fellow students on the other hand looked at her with surprise and then maliciously. She could understand that, she was very mean to most of these people, and now that she didn't have her looks or her friends, they saw a time of revenge.

The rest of the week only got worse. She felt quite ugly and lonely by the end of it, and came closer and closer to going back to her old ways as time went on. Her parents noticed and gave Hermione hope enough to last her through the week by saying, "Hermione, I know things are tough now, but true friends will show themselves soon enough, don't give up."

By the time Saturday rolled around, she had almost forgot about Harry promising to call her. She wondered if he would. She was starting to think not, because nobody seemed to like the real her, despite what her parents were saying, so why would Harry be any different?

On Saturday afternoon she was doing her homework when the phone rang. She didn't even register it until her mom yelled up the stairs, "Hermione the phone is for you!" Hermione stopped breathing for a second than raced down the wooden stairs, slipping down the last few, but still managing to stay upright. Her mom held out the phone for her, laughing behind her hand. Hermione stuck her tongue out at her and toke the phone.

"Hello?" She asked, a little breathless.

"Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

"Oh, hi, um, I can't talk long on this, because my aunt and uncle would notice eventually, would you mind meeting in the library? I would meet somewhere outside, but it's kind of cold today."

Hermione frowned at the aunt and uncle comment but let it go. "That should be fine, which library?"

"The one near the post office."

"OK, when?"

"Err, how about 1:00?" He asked.

"Alright, see you then. Bye."

"Bye."

Hermione smiled, maybe she wasn't so alone after all. After all, he seemed to her like her regular self, even her bossy self, (which she was mortified about when she later realized that she had been really bossy) and still called her. She hung up the phone. And turned around to find her mother still standing there.

"Do you have a date?" Her mom asked, a little excited.

"No, I'm just meeting someone at the library, that's all." Hermione stilled smiled wide, like she was just asked out on a date.

"Someone?" Her mom asked, suspicious of the smile.

"Harry." Hermione said, smiling wider.

"Oh, I see. Have fun, be back in time for dinner."

Hermione nodded and went upstairs. She was happy and only had to wait an hour and half until she saw him again. The week was looking up.__


	3. Answers Not found, or So They Think

Hermione stood outside the library, waiting. Because she couldn't stand waiting at home, she had come to the library a quarter of an hour early. But that was 45 minuets ago and Harry was officially 30 minuets late. Hermione worried that he wasn't going to show up.

"Hermione! I'm so sorry I'm running late, I had to finish cleaning out the outside trash cans. Can you believe that they were full of throw up and empty beer bottles? I didn't think about the outside trash cans at all when we were cleaning." Harry said, racing up to her, a little out of breath. "I thought it smelled weird over there, but I didn't really think about it. That stuff has been there for week, I almost vomited when I had to clean it." He looked disgusted just thinking about it.

Hermione smiled brightly, relieved that he actually came. His face was flushed from running and his hair was even messier from the wind. He looked adorable, but Hermione realized that she was staring and hadn't said anything yet. He was starting to look at her strangely.

"Um…Did they find you and Dudley out about the party?" She asked, actually wondering.

They turned and started walking into the library.

"No, they just thought someone stole the trash cans. My uncle went on and on about drunks and criminals, while he was drinking Brandy and Dudley came tumbling down the stairs hung over form another party, I might add. He wanted to chain the trash cans to the fence, but my aunt said that it would look bad, and would surely have the neighbors talking." He said, then opened the door for Her.

Hermione looked at him strangely this time, and said, "That's good, I guess." Harry shrugged in response.

She nodded her thanks, and with out even looking around, began to go up stairs. Harry had a strong impression of a queen in her domain, confident, powerful, and comfortable. Shaking his head, he followed her up wide blue carpeted stairs.

"So, how are we going to start?" Harry asked, catching up to her easily.

"We are going to compare experiences, then we are going to look up theories and see which one fits ours the best." She sat down at a thick wooden table in the corner of the library. While Hermione took some paper and a pen out of the small bag she had with her, Harry read the little messages etched into the table. Most of it was pretty generic, L & B 4ever, swear words, insults, inside jokes, and something that looked like someone was halfway through scratching it out when they stopped, or were more likely stopped by someone else. Only the top of the letters were untouched and he tried to read the message from that. After several moments of hard staring, Harry read, Long Live The-Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry thought it a rather stupid thing to say, as this person living was in the ridiculous hyphenated name, and therefore the message was slightly repetitive. Harry wondered if the person who wrote that realized it too, and tried to scratch it out. He also wondered who the-boy-who-lived was. It sounded a little like a dorky role playing thing, and maybe the person was embarrassed about scratching it into a table. For some reason, Harry doubted it. The person who tried to scratch it out did it heavily, completely getting rid of the bottom half of the letters, it looked like someone was very, very angry when they were scratching away at the long name.

Suddenly the words were blocked out by a hand. Harry snapped back to reality.

"… rry, Hello, can you hear me?" Hermione asked, looking at him quizzically and also a little worriedly.

"Sorry, I was trying to read the table." Harry smiled at her to show that it was alright, then asked, "Why don't you go first."

"Alright, I'll start from the earliest I can remember…"

Hermione went efficiently and carefully through all of her memories of odd moments, writing down little summaries of each one on lined paper. Harry noticed that her hand writing was neat and easy to read, but very, very tiny. Her hand moved and twitch in little motions.

When it was Harry's turn, he wondered how he should go about explaining things. Almost all of his odd moments had to do with some sort of issue with the Dursleys or bullies and the conversation could become quite depressing.

While Hermione wrote and spoke about herself, she had a look of concentration on her face, a slight line in between her eyebrows, her mouth hanging open a little when she tried to remember some fading detail, and clenching tightly if she couldn't remember, or if she recalled it had to do with some humiliation. Harry noticed these details, and he knew he would also notice the small details if he told her his depressing stories. He could imagine a slight frown, angry tension in the lines of her face, a sadness in her eyes that wasn't there before. He didn't want to make her sad.

More importantly, he didn't want to humiliate himself. Somehow, through everything, or maybe because of everything, he held vehemently onto what was left of his pride with everything he had, and he didn't know if his pride could take the blow of having to tell a person who is practically a stranger all the details of his shame. He swallowed and looked up at Hermione, who was looking at him, eye brows raised, pen at the ready, waiting for him to speak. He looked down at his hands, resting in a pool of light shinning through the window.

"Um, I know some of it is kind of humiliating to talk about, but I think remembering as many details as you can might be important, and don't worry, I won't judge you or anything." She said, smiling encouragingly at him.

Harry realized that this was kind of important, they might be able to find out about the strange things that happen around them, and he did really want to know.

It came to him what he should do.

------------------------

" And so Dudley runs up the stairs, one foot stuck in a bucket, his hair bright green, yelling 'Stop the walruses' at the top of his lungs, while my Uncle is running after him asking him what happened." Harry was laughing so hard he could barely get the words out. Hermione was sitting across from him, clutching her stomach and wiping away a tear.

"That's so funny, all of your stories are so funny. I wish could have made my odd moments that creative. Oh God, my stomach hurts." Hermione gasped out.

After a few minuets they calm down, though there mouths still twitch into a smile every once and awhile and they couldn't look at each other without laughing a little more.

Harry's plan was a success. He decided to try and add a funny spin on everything he said, which turned out to be pretty easy to do, as long as he didn't mention the punishments for the odd moments, they really were quite funny.

"Alright, the largest link I can find in between the odd moments is that a strong emotion always sets them off. That, and most of them involved being surprised or panicked. Do you think it might be a defense mechanism?" Hermione asked becoming serious.

"Hmm, I don't think so. Like when I wanted to get the glass of water from the table to spell on Dudley at dinner because he ripped up my favorite book, that was a little more premeditative, and not really a knee jerk defense." Harry said, sobering up just as quickly as Hermione.

"That's true, I changed that sweat shirt's color because I didn't want to go to Aunt Mary's party in the ugly color it was originally. My cousins would have made fun of me mercilessly. That wasn't a knee jerk reaction either. Hmm" Hermione looked out the window. The pool of light had shifted from Harry's hands to Hermione's face and the book shelf behind her. She was biting the end of her pen gently, obviously thinking. Sighing, she tugged at her curly hair, brown eyes glittering and squinting in the sunlight. Harry noticed that a light smattering of freckles could be seen across the bridge of her nose, now that her fake tan was fading away. She glanced at him, and shifted, blushing a little. Harry realized that he was staring at her.

"Um, Um, we know that it always involved a strong emotion, and even in a certain state of panic, it always involved a large amount of will." Harry said, mostly just trying to keep the attention away from the fact that he was staring at her, but also realizing that he was right. Hermione smiled at him and wrote it down on her paper and circled it.

"So, we can make things happen with our will." Hermione said, bouncing in her sit a little, about to write that down too.

"Yes, so can most people. I think that we should specify on that a little more." Harry said, realizing that was another side to what they were doing. "What and how can we effect things?"

"You make a very good point, Harry." Hermione said, looking through all of her papers. For a few minutes all that could be heard from that little corner of the library was the sound of paper shuffling. Harry made sure to stare off in a different direction than Hermione, which turned out to be a surprisingly hard thing to do.

"I…I think there might be a pattern here. All of the things I have changed, or manipulated, I guess, have been objects. Most of the things that you have done had also only directly affected objects too, except for three occasion, one where you started to inflate our Aunt Marge, but quickly stopped, realizing that you would be in loads of trouble with your uncle. And the others where when you flung that guy through the hallway on your first day of school and once where you made yourself appear on the school roof. Where you tired after that?" Hermione suddenly asked, looking up at him intently.

"No, yes, hmm. I felt like it was around 9:00 at night, you know that feeling where it is getting closer to the end the day, but your not really tired, just weary, I guess. Sorry, I don't think that makes too much since." Harry shrugged, looking at Hermione questioningly.

"Did you ever feel more weary after dealing with things with more mass?" Hermione asked, leaning over the table a little more, barely blinking.

"Yes, I think so. That one time I made all the doors slam at the same time in my school's hallway was a lot more, tiring, I think really is the best word, then when I made the glass of water fall onto Dudley's lap." Harry said, leaning forward a little also.

"You see, it's the same for me. Except, I think you might be more powerful than me, because I've never been able to anything to people, or anything as extravagant as your other odd moments either." Hermione said, looking down at her papers, a little disappointed.

Harry felt an urge to cheer her up. "I think perhaps you have never been in a situation where you have had enough will to do something very extreme. I don't think it's that you can't, more like, you've never had a reason to." Harry said, believing it.

Hermione gave him a little smile, "Maybe your right. I feel stupid for worrying about it, anyway. Most people can't do anything like this at all." She paused and huffed a little, "I think." Hermione looked around the slowly emptying library with mock suspicion.

Harry laughed a little. "God, wouldn't that just be it. Everyone else already knows about this except for us. Like there is already a whole world of people who know what is going on."

"I highly doubt that." Hermione giggled a little at the idea. "I think we should start trying to find books that might help us." Hermione said, standing up. Harry stood up also.

"What should we look for? It isn't really a conventional topic." Harry asked, following Hermione to the non-fiction section.

"Anything to do with mental powers of some sort. I think we should keep an open mind, though, we really don't know what is going on." Hermione instructed sternly. Harry was heavily reminded of when they cleaned up his house and again fought the urge to salute. Hermione looked back at him, eye brows raised. He corked a grin, and shaking his head, went down another row of books.

------------------

An hour and a half later, they are back at the table, laughing again. Hermione can barely see Harry over the piles of the most useless books on the planet. When Hermione started looking, she was trying to find anything that might define and explain their odd moments to them. She had to go through a lot of mental illness and delusions books before she came to anything thing that might help. After she got through many rows of book shelves she became impatient and started widening her horizons a little more to include things she hadn't thought to before.

That's how they ended up with a table full of metaphysical philosophy and spiritual awakening books.

"Oh, Hermione, did you know that when I appeared on the top of my elementary school it was because of years of training and my body had reached a higher level of being, because I had no idea. Don't you think I would notice if my body had reached a higher level of being? I'm sure I would have at least woke up one night and thought, 'Oh, my body, it's no longer tied down by mere mortal things, like gravity. Cool', or something." Harry said, flipping through a book entitled, _So You Have a Certain Kind of Power_.

Hermione smiled at him, then sighed a little. "I'm sorry , this has been a complete waste of time. We'll just have to think of some other way of coming up with information." Hermione looked out the window, feeling both happy and frustrated at the same time. She had spent the whole day with Harry, and it was never awkward for longer than 5 seconds. She can't remember ever getting a long so well with someone before. She feels like she has finally, after 17 years, made her first friend. However, the mood was a little ruined by the complete lack of any information to help them figure out what was going on with the things around them. It was driving Hermione nuts.

She suddenly sat up straighter, looking more closely around outside, noticing the positioning of the sun. She looked at the clock for the first since she left her house this morning.

"Holy crap, I've got to get home. I said I would be home in time for dinner." Hermione stood up, grabbed her papers and put them in her bag.

"What?" Harry says, looking around at the clock. His mouth drops open. "No way! That much time hasn't past already? Shit, I need to get home too." Harry scrambles to his feet and puts his jacket on.

"We should continue to look for stuff through out the week, and come back here next Saturday at the same time." Hermione said, as they ran down the stairs.

"That sounds good." Harry opens the door for Hermione and the cold air outside is an unpleasant sensation after being so warm in the library.

They both stop for a second and look at each other, "See you next Saturday then." Harry said, a smile breaking out in his face, despite his current mild panic.

"See you." Hermione says, smiling at him just as brightly.

They go their separate ways.

------------------------

Hermione was walking a brisk pace home, knowing that her parents would be waiting impatiently for her so they could eat dinner. She knew that, but was still in such a good mood, even with the frustration, that she just couldn't make herself feel to concerned about it.

Her walk home was pleasant, once she got used to it the cold was refreshing. The trees were still green, but some where changing, and it was beautiful. The street was lined with old trees, her house being in a slightly older neighborhood, so the trees stood tall and proud, weak evening sunlight shining through them. The air was full of scents from peoples gardens, and people were smiling and waving as they passed each other. Hermione decided it was a good day.

She walked in her front door to find her parents talking happily and setting the table. "Oh, your lucky, dinner is running late, so you haven't missed any of it." Her mom said, glancing at her daughter then doing a double take. "Oh, doesn't someone look happy. How was your day, dear?" Martha asked, sharing a smile with Charles, already guessing at the answer.

"It was lovely mom, just lovely." Hermione took off her jacket and sat down at the kitchen table.

"It must have been. How else can someone spend so much time at the library." Her mom asks, looking at Hermione's radiant smile, and smiling just by seeing it. She had a vague idea how her daughter could spend so much time there, but wanted to hear her say it.

--------------------

Harry was racing home. Racing past houses with the same color and shape. Racing past perfectly kept gardens. Racing past mediocrity at its finest. The cold air was making it even more difficult to breath while running than usual. He was in deep shit and he knew it. He was supposed to have dinner on the table by now, and he hadn't even started cooking it yet. Harry knew through years of experience that one thing Vernon doesn't like to have messed with is food.

It amazed and saddened him how easily his good mood drifted away. The stress and panic of what he knew awaited him when he got home ate away and devoured the good mood in moments. As he reached the front door of number four he paused. Maybe he was panicked enough to make something happen. Something that would stop Vernon from freaking out on him. He didn't have enough time to think of anything before the front door opened and a large, hairy arm reached out and grabbed him.

Harry was looking up at his uncle's bright red face, then his raised hand, then the wall as his head moved with the blow.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing, you little shit!?" Vernon shouted, grabbing Harry's shirt collar and yanking him closer so Harry was on the balls of his feet and their faces where only an inch away from each other.

"HUH! Where the fuck is my dinner? It isn't on the table, and it isn't cooking. You better have a good excuse!" Harry felt spit sprinkle across his face and turned his head as far away as he could. Vernon threw him to the floor. "Well?"

Harry knew not to say anything. He could have been saving a bus full of school children from a fire and it wouldn't have made a difference.

"What? No response? Freak, I bet you were up to no good." He then kicked him in the side, then again, then stopped. Harry noticed, biting his lip through the pain, that it was because he got winded. He continued to bite his lip to stop from laughing.

"Whatever, just make some dinner, and don't even dream of getting any of it." Vernon waddled into the living room, the television getting loader than quieter again as the door opened and closed.

Harry sat on the bottom step of the stairs, collecting him self a little. He shoved the feelings of hunger and humiliation down deep and thought that if he ever did lose it and went around setting things on fire, he would have to burn down all of Britain to release the vast amounts of the pent up emotion.

He decided to make hamburgers and salad for dinner.

-----------------------

On Monday morning Harry was standing in the middle of the library, in too large clothing dyed gray, shifting every once and awhile when someone knocked into his shoulder on purpose. He was contemplating whether or not he should really look around the library for answers to the odd moments question. If it wasn't in the public library, then he highly doubted it would be in the dinky school library. He also didn't really have the time to go further away to look for answers, because the Dursleys were being even more strict about where he was aloud to go, to avoid him making dinner late again.

God forbid that the Dursleys would have to go hungry for 10 minuets, Harry thought bitterly, his stomach growling.

Even after coming to that conclusion, he knew he couldn't just show up empty handed, so to say, on Saturday. Just imagining Hermione's disappointed expression made him hate himself just a little bit more, so instead of trying to find something useful in a pile of useless books, he was going to try a more practical approach to trying to figure out the details of their powers. He would write down what he did to make things work, and then they wouldn't have to try and guess off memories of past experiences.

Maybe some of his wanting to try a different approach might also be because of him detesting looking up things in books, but that wasn't important.

So Harry, whenever he could, tried to get something to happen. It wasn't working out to well. No matter how hard he willed things to move or change, they just wouldn't do it. He then tried to make himself really care about having these things change in someway, knowing that strong emotion had something to do with it. That didn't work either, because, Harry realized, he was a rather apathetic person, and just couldn't make himself care as much as he wanted to. He blamed the Dursleys.

By the time Thursday came, Harry was really quite frustrated and had accumulated quite a large headache by staring at things so intently. He decided that he couldn't make himself feel a strong emotion, but maybe he could make other people make him instead.

Harry, for the first time in his life, started a fight. In the end all that happened was he got the snot beaten out of him by three large guys. Even while getting badly beaten, he couldn't bring up enough panic or emotion to make anything happen, though he could have sworn it felt like something might have been building up inside. But that could have just been the throw up.

He decided to give up for now.

Hermione was having a similarly frustrating, but less violent, week. She started again at the public library, and came up with the same results as the first time. She then tried the school's library, with even less results. On Wednesday she traveled to London, to try and look through the books at a public library there and some book shops all around.

She got better results there, a book that talked about mental powers, and how some peoples energy went outside of themselves with their will, making them able to do things with out touching them. It was an interesting idea, but it only talked about moving things, rather than changing it's color or shape, but it was the closest thing to what they could do that she could find, so she rented it from the library, and continued to roam around, trying to find book shops that dealt with these kinds of things specifically. She ended up in a lot of pagan and ethereal shops, feeling very uncomfortable, her logical nature cringing away from all the uncertain emotional aspects that the stores were based off of.

She was tired and irritable by the time she was done, having worked very hard the whole day and only having one book to show for it. She was about ready to cry from frustration when someone careless shoved her on her way back to the tubes, the book flinging from her hands and into a puddle. She looked back angrily at the person who bumped into her and kneeled down to take the book from the puddle. She noticed a store across the street for the first time. It had the strangest name, which toke a moment to read off of the old rusted sign hanging over the street.

"The Leaky Caldron. What an odd name." Hermione muttered to herself, shaking out the book and tucking it under her arm. "What a dodgy looking place, glad I'm on the other side of the road from it." She continued down the street, but for some reason Hermione couldn't explain to herself, she kept looking back at it.

Hermione started reading the book that night, but to her dismay the promising beginning quickly turned to disappointment when the topic changed to mediation and stretching.

She decided to give up for now.

On Thursday Hermione was suddenly reminded of her situation at school. She was still the point of all gossip. Her locker had been decorated time and again by insulting words and pictures, she had been shoved around the hallway by many forceful shoulders, and had been laughed at and ridiculed by people she used to be "friends" with. However, for the first half of the week Hermione really didn't care too much. She had school to think about while at school, and the moments where school wasn't distracting enough, she could think of Harry and the odd moments question and be fine enough. During really straining moments, like on Monday when she realized she would have to eat lunch in a secluded area to eat peacefully and felt so lonely she thought her heart would burst, she would think of seeing Harry again on Saturday, and would wonder if he had found out anything yet.

But on Thursday she had already given up, and no longer had that to escape to. The books she was reading and her classes weren't enough to keep her mind off the loneliness all the time and she felt like she was on the brink of a relapse. The only thing keeping Hermione from going back to her old ways was thought of Harry's and her parent's disappointed faces.

That, and she thought it might already be too late for things to go back to normal.

So by Thursday evening she was so desperate for company that she agreed to go a flea market with her mother. She quickly regretted it after spending an hour meandering around with her through piles of junk. She was always automatically drawn to the piles of books, some hope left that maybe one of the books there would be the one with answers.

She was surprised, when she finished looking through stacks of paperback romance novels, to find a book titled _If You Can Read This, Than You Are A Witch or Wizard, _at the bottom of the pile. She picked it up, wondering what it would have in it. She flipped to the first page, where there was a small introduction. It said, " I have written this book in hopes that a muggleborn will read it. If you can read this book at all, then your magical in some way. I know that right now you are confused, but if you would just read the book, your questions will be answered."

Hermione giggled a little, thinking the person sounded desperate for the book to sell. She also wondered what in the world a Muggleborn could be. She heard her mother calling for her, so she quickly flipped to the table of contexts to see if it would having anything good in it. The first chapter was called Further Introduction for the Muggleborn. The second called: The Rise of Voldemort. Hermione heard her mother call again, and decided to skim the chapter titles, they were called things like, the Boy-Who-Lived, The Return of Voldemort, The Quiet Take Over, Imperial and Marshal Law, The Death of Dumbledore, The Cleansing of Muggleborns.

"Hermione, there you are, are you ready to go?" Martha asked, a bag full of junk slung over her shoulder. "Do you want that dear?" Her mom asked, seeing Hermione clutching the book. Hermione looked down at the book, thinking. Something about it intrigued her, but the book wasn't very think and the chapter titles made her think that it was probably just some fantasy book for children.

"No, I don't think so." She said after a moment, putting the book down on the pile.

"You sure?" Her mom asked again, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, lets just go." Hermione said setting off with her mom to the car. Hermione was lost in thought while looking out the window. The book sounded silly, but it did implant a serious thought in her head. Maybe magic really was what they were doing, it would make since, but she just wasn't sure, magic seemed too out there. But Hermione reminded herself that it wasn't too out there really, as she could make things change color or float. She would bring the idea up to Harry on Saturday.

After a week of effort, they would both only turn up with ideas.

A/N I promise, the next chapter will have actual magic in it, and some answers. Thank you for reviewing, all the people who had, and please review if you want to, I greatly appreciate it. Also, I would love to have a beta reader. My friend reads through the chapters and says she checks them, but after reading through them again, I think that she didn't actually change anything. So a beta reader would be lovely. Thank you for reading. __


	4. Camera, Lights and

Hermione stood nervously outside the library, worried that Harry was going to come with loads of information making her look like an idiot. Hermione didn't think she could handle another blow to her self-esteem after such a long and grueling week at school. Frowning, she shifted from one foot to the other, looking a little like she had to use the loo. Finally, she saw a mass of short, messy black hair cresting the hill, quickly followed by the rest of Harry. She became very still, then let out sigh of relief; Harry didn't seem to have any books with him either. He stopped a few feet in front of her.

He grinned and said, "Hi."

She smiled back while looking at her feet, "Hey."

They stood there awkwardly for a second for a moment. Then they spurted out at the same time, "I didn't get anything but I have an idea." They stared at each other for a long second then started laughing, partly because of the situation and partly from relief.

"Well, what's your idea?" Harry asked, smiling at her encouragingly.

Hermione frowned, shifting again, looking a little embarrassed. " It's stupid and just a thought, so don't take it too seriously. I… I think that we might be doing magic." She ducked her head a little, looking slightly mortified that she actually said it.

That's an interesting idea. It seems kind of obvious though. I thought perhaps it might be something like that. It's good that we have something to call what we are doing, though." Harry frowned at her, thinking that she seemed a little more shy than usual. She looked back up at him. Then she leaned in a little, her eyes squinting because the sun was behind Harry's head.

"Harry! Your face!" Hermione gasped, putting her hand over her mouth and stepping toward him. He had a black eye, a split lip, a light cut across one check and a scraped chin. She thought of her time in the cupboard under the stairs, hiding from the Dursleys after helping Harry clean up his house, hearing Harry getting slapped. If Harry's uncle did this to him, she was going to call the police.

Harry looked at her blankly for a second, then a look of understanding came across his face. "Oh yeah, I got in a fight at school. It was rather stupid actually. I thought that if I got in a fight I would start feeling a strong enough emotion, or whatever, to make something happen. It didn't work." Harry shrugged.

"That's…That's ridiculous Harry! Don't put yourself in danger for this!" Hermione said, unthinkingly reaching up to touch his face. He flinched away rather violently. Hermione snapped her hand back. A beat of awkwardness averted eyes, then Hermione asked, "So that was your idea? Scare the… the magic or whatever out of us?" She sounded incredulous.

"No, I was trying a bunch of different things to see what triggers it and to see if we really have any control over it. I tried, though not overly hard, but nothing happen. Whatever this is, I think it will be hard to control." Harry frowned looking frustrated. "Well, I think that trying to make our magic happen is a good idea, though I'd rather not get in a fight. How should we do this?

They ended up staring at leafs and twigs, deciding to stay outside since it was nice out, trying to get something to happen -willing and willing for something to happen. They sat there staring for hours, becoming bored beyond belief. Harry sighed, diverting his attention away from his leaf and over towards Hermione, who was staring intently at a leaf, looking totally zoned-in on it.

'She definitely has a longer attention span than I do' , Harry thought, because he was bored out of his mind. If he didn't do something else soon he was going to scream. He was about to ask Hermione if she had any other ideas when he noticed something off about her. Last week she seemed brimming with confidence, her face glowing. Now there was something tired about her, her shoulders hunched in a protective way. She kept touching her hair self consciously every time someone came by. Harry frowned, staring at her intently.

"Her…" Harry paused to cough, it had been awhile since they had spoken, "Hermione, how was your week at school? How are things there, I mean?" Harry asked, guessing that her new demeanor had something to do with school.

Hermione looked at him, startled. "Why do you ask?" Hermione rose her eyebrows almost defensively.

Harry shrugged, "Just wondered."

Hermione stared at him for a long moment, she seemed to try and speak but her voice caught in her throat, she looked down at her hands, her hair curtaining her face. "It has been a bad few weeks but I think things will get better. I really do." Hermione choked out.

Harry was staring at her in horror. She started to sniffle. He sat there, mouth slightly open, wishing he had never said anything. He moved to pat her back, then quickly pulled his hand back, then reconsidered and stuck it out again, then over come by a new wave of horror pulled it back to his side. He looked torn. Hermione was looking at him through her hair. She started to giggle and sniff at the same time.

"Don't worry about it Harry, just having an odd moment. I really do think things will get better. That school is full of fickle, empty-headed idiots. Another week tops and they will stop picking on me." Hermione wiped her eyes and pushed her hair behind her ear. She gave Harry a little smile.

It struck him, someplace inside that isn't often struck, that she seemed rather vulnerable. "That seems like it would be lonely though. They'll change from picking on you to ignoring you, you know." Harry said gently, having gone through that time and again.  
"It's alright, I think I'd rather have no friends at all then go back to how things were." Hermione said, realizing it was true for the first time.

"That and you aren't going to be friendless. You can rest assured that you have at least one friend." Harry said with determination, smiling at her. Hermione stared at him. To his horror, her eyes started filling up with tears again.

"Oh Harry, you have a friend too, you know." Hermione said, patting him gently and quickly on the arm. She didn't notice him tensing for those few seconds.

There was a moment of basking in the glow of friendship. " Wow, my first friend." they said at the same time. They looked at each other, grinning.

Harry shook his head, "That seems oddly pathetic." Harry said.

Hermione slapped him on the arm lightly. Harry forgot to tense. "Speak for yourself. I was very popular you know." Hermione said sarcastically.

"Oh yes, I'm sure you were all great friends." Harry said sarcastically back.

They talked about their rather lame social lives. Hermione talked about .all the things peers pressured her into doing and all the ways that she, in turn, pressured others in the same manner. She spoke of the guilt she felt doing and all the things she peer pressured people into doing, the guilt she felt afterward, curled up in her room, missing the days she felt like a good person. Harry talked about the intense anger he felt sometimes, the kind that happened only once and in a while - the kind that made magic happen. He talked about his bullying cousin in grade school and his quick descent into ostracism at Stonewall. He talked about how he was lonely all the time but how he still never wanted to be around people.

The topic slowly changed to academics and the mood lightened. They were both rather large dorks on the inside but Hermione was the largest one by far. Harry liked books and learning because it took him away and put things in perspective. Plus, he would learn words to insult people with - without anybody understanding him. Hermione, on the other hand, just enjoyed learning new things. She thrived on it.

By the time they were done talking it was getting pretty late, the twigs and leaves having been long forgotten, the sun getting lower and lower in the sky. Hermione looked at her watch and told Harry the time.

"Looks like we'll have to go if I will have enough time to walk you home and get home myself." Harry said.

Harry got up first then easily helped Hermione to her feet. They started walking. Neither of them noticed the scenery around them.

--------------------------------

There is only one busy intersection in between the library and Hermione's house. They were waiting in a comfortable silence for the light to change to red so they could cross the street. A red glow appeared above them and Harry started across the street with Hermione, who stumbled a little and dropped her bag full of paper and pens they didn't end up using. Not thinking, she bends down to grab all of her things. Harry, not noticing, continues across the street. A few sheets of paper drift away, Hermione reaches for them. Harry reaches the other side of the street.

A green glow emerged in the now full darkness, along with the sound of cars moving. Hermione pauses, sucking in breath, realizing what an idiot she was. She stays crouched down, hand reaching for paper that has moved further away. Harry stares, mind blank. A black car rolls ever closer to her, looking like death, reflecting the eerie green of the traffic light on the shiny surface of the car.

Panic. Unfiltered. Penetrating to the bone for the first time in both of their lives. Hermione puts her hands in front of her; Harry stretches out his hands. To any normal people these would simply be their last futile gestures - nothing to be done.

Harry and Hermione are not normal. Blue light engulfs the car, slamming it to a halt. Hermione disappears and appears next to Harry, confused but relieved. Soon the relief gave way to the pain firing through her arm. She looks down at her hand and sees that she is missing three of her fingernails from her right hand. Harry is panting next to her, bent double.

They are both looking at the car, whose air bags have gone off. The driver pulls to the side of the road.

"Are you alright?" They ask at the same time.

"Almost." Hermione said.

"Not really." Harry said, groaning.

The air suddenly gets colder, much colder. Hermione could see her breath, the skin of her freshly exposed fingers burning all the more in the cold. Harry was no longer panting but he stayed crouched over, his expression becoming more and more distant the colder it got. Hermione felt like all the happiness had left the world. If there were a bridge nearby, she might have jumped off it.

Suddenly there was a loud crack, the second Harry had heard that night, and the first for Hermione. A tall woman with a severe appearance stood before them both, her silver-streaked black hair pulled back in a bun and her eyes obscured by of the glare of the street light. She wore an antiquated dress and had a stick in her hand. They stared at her.

She reached out her hands and yelled at them to hold her arms tightly with such authority they grabbed almost on reflex. A intense squeezing sensation that they both felt for the second time in their lives and they were no longer home.

Hermione saw stars. More stars than she had ever seen, having always lived in cities or suburbs and never having visited the country long enough to think of looking at the stars. As she lay on soft green grass gasping and listening to two other people gasp, she thought, in an odd moment of peace in her panicked mind, that they looked very beautiful.

She more or less caught her breath and turned toward the heavy breathing near her. Harry was sitting up also. They looked at each other.

"Who was screaming?" Harry asked while he looked at the severe looking women who was still gasping for breath, lying drained on the grass.

"No one was screaming, Harry." Hermione said, looking at him with concern.

Harry's eyebrows scrunched together. He looked very confused. Shrugging, Harry and Hermione moved closer to the women that presumably took them there.

She was still gasping and held up her finger to tell them to wait. A few minutes later she sat up, her breathing more regular.

"I am not as young as I used to be, I should not have apparated two people and myself all at the same time." She said, mostly to herself. They stared at her blankly.

"I bet that you two have a lot of questions but I shan't answer them. It is best if you do not know." She stood up and looked at them both. She stared at Hermione's slightly frightened face for a moment, her expression sad. "It is best if you don't know." She said again, whispering. "You two are in a field not too far away from a bus stop that will take you to Surrey. It will be a little bit of a walk but not too bad, just go that way. Wait a little longer before you leave, also, just in case the dementors take a while to leave." She pointed down a road to their left to indicate where the bus stop was. She lifted her stick, looking ready to go.

"Wait!" Hermione almost screeches. The person obviously knows something, something important, she couldn't just let her go. Not when they could find out for sure.

The women holds still. Hermione stands there quietly for a moment, opening and closing her mouth, trying to think of something to make the women stay and tell them something. The women raises her eyebrow and brings her stick up again.

Hermione just blurts out, "The- Boy-Who- Lived!"

The women drops her stick in surprise.

"W, What do you know about the Boy-Who-Lived?" She asked, hastily picking up her stick.

"Hermione asked the first question that came to mind; she was desperately stalling.

"What is his real name and age?" She asked, trying to sound like it was urgent that she know.

There was a long pause, the women staring intently at Hermione, trying to figure out whether or not to tell her. "Harry James Potter. He's 17, if he is alive."

Hermione stared at the women in shock.

"What?" Harry asked, looking confused and frightened.

"You heard me." She said, squinting at Harry through the darkness. Wind blew Harry's bangs back, revealing a lightening shaped scar. Her eyes widened.

"You're alive." She said dropping to her knees.

"Yes, I do believe so." Harry said, staring down with concern to the women with the stick. She stared at him a few moments longer, tears streaming down her face. Harry looked at Hermione in confusion, she shrugged and crouched down to comfort this suddenly emotional person when the women sprung up with her wand drawn and pointed it at Harry.

"Petrificus Totalus!" She screamed, rather hysterically. Hermione stared in amazement as Harry's limbs all locked together, lost balance on the uneven ground and fell over.

"Wh, what are you doing!" Hermione yelped and kneeled next to Harry.

"Move out of the way." she said, shoving Hermione a little. She raised her stick again and muttered, "Lumos." There was a sudden bright light and Hermione blinked rapidly at the sudden change in lighting. Harry could not.

She moved the light to Harry's face. It was a white light, making Harry's skin very pale but his eyes very bright. She stared at him critically for a moment, looking past the bruises and scrapes. "So much like James." She whispered sadly. She shifted her hand to his bangs, pushing them back and gasping again when she saw his lightening bolt shaped scar, so clear on his now-pale forehead. With a look of a person trying to keep it together, she mutter many odd words while pointing her stick at his forehead. Nothing happened.

"It's not fake, it's not fake, it's not fake." She said, wearily putting her head in her hands, kneeling next to him.

"Excuse me, if you are quite done being crazy, I would like you to let Harry go and we will just be on our way." Hermione said, her voice shaking a little, frightened of the emotionally erratic women.

"Oh, I guess that he'll want to be able to move again." She said absently, looking out into the distance, thinking. She waved her stick and Harry's limbs released themselves. He breathed a sigh of relief and sat up. He and Hermione shared a long, meaningful look. They both bolted to their feet and started running. McGonagal sat there, stunned for a second before pointing her wand at their retreating backs and mentally saying the petrifying spell twice in quick succession. They quickly fell.

She stomped over to them whispering to herself, "I think I deserved that, idiot." She stopped in front of them, her wand pointing at them. She stared at Harry for a few minutes longer, nodding her head to herself every once and awhile, pulling herself together fully. She then turned to Hermione. "How do you know about his title? Where did you learn the name, The-Boy-Who- Lived?"

Hermione felt her limbs being free for a moment, then felt her legs crunch together. She wouldn't be able to run. "I, I read it in a book. Well, I didn't really read the book, I mean. I read the table of context. I didn't mean to, I didn't know that it was real, or that it meant anything to you. The other chapters were called things like 'the death of Dumbledore' and 'the return of Voldemort'…" Hermione was about to go on with her rambling but she was interrupted by the women's panicked voice.

"Come on! Quickly! You said his name!" She freed their limbs and pulled them both up, grabbing their arms tightly. There was a tight, suffocating squeezing again and they were in the middle of a dark street in London.

"Never, ever say his name again, it is cursed. Say it again and they will track you down." She gasped out, looking like she had just run a mile but she said it very firmly through her gasping and they found themselves nodding with out meaning to. They looked around the empty street. It was dirty and dark, a real crap hole neighborhood. There was an empty lot in front of them, full of trash and smelling vaguely of urine.

"Remember this name, number 25 Rowling St. London. Say it to yourselves quickly." McGonagal said, looking up and down the street nervously. As soon as they thought it a building began to appear in front them, looking just as crappy as the rest of the street. Harry and Hermione stared at the building that came out of nowhere with astonishment. They looked at each other, mouths open. It was all too much. They stood there and grabbed each others hands, swallowing heavily. It was just too much, one second they were walking home, now they were here. Before they could think much longer she spoke to them again.

"Don't just stand there, get inside." The scary women ordered them. Hesitantly, they stepped into the threshold of the end of their worlds and the beginning of one entirely different, curiosity the only thing moving them forward.

She opened the door to a surprisingly well-maintained entrance area and hall. They stepped through, still holding hands for support. Looking around, they noticed newly-painted walls and framed watercolors hanging. There was a light ticking from the clock hanging further down a hall. It felt homey for a place that they were randomly brought to by a random person; it oddly made Hermione and Harry very tired.

The older women opened her mouth to say something, looking oddly contrite but she was interrupted by a door slamming open, revealing a kitchen and a red haired women who looked like she was plump at one time but now was too strained to remain round. She wore a ratty old fashioned dress and shawl. She was looking at a clock.

"There you are Minerva, I was getting worried. Did you help…" She looked up and stopped speaking, noticing the two unsuspected guests.

"Minerva, What are you doing?" You can't bring muggle-borns here just because you feel sorry for them! Really, I thought you were more sensible than that…" She took a breath, presumably to get enough air to go on with her rant.

The women, evidently Minerva, cut her off. "Don't be ridiculous Molly, this isn't the usual case." She turned to Harry and Hermione, seeing their terrified and confused faces, sighed and said, "I think that I need to explain things to them first, Molly. We should all go into the kitchen." She walked forward, to the kitchen, obviously expecting them to follow. Molly waited for them to go in first.

They were all setting at the kitchen table, Harry and Hermione sitting next to each other, Molly puttering around, making tea and glancing curiously at them, and Minerva staring down at her hands, thinking. The clock from the hall was the only noise.

"I know that you both think that I am mentally ill, and though at times I wonder, for the most part I am as sane as any other person. You can not understand what I am going through right now. I don't know where to start to make you even begin to understand." She sighed and looked at them, her face very serious. "There is so much to tell you, Mr. Potter and unfortunately your friend too. This affects her now as well.

"The thing that I need you both to understand first so that you don't run away the next time you are left alone is that you both are a witch and a wizard, respectively. There were two very large magical... signs, I suppose you could call them, from your location and the stoplight. They were so close together that it was just a large enough sign to get noticed. Unfortunately, the signs got noticed by the wrong side, who, when they notice large enough accidental magic coming from a muggle area, send a few of their monsters to take care of the too noticeable muggle-borns.

Most muggle-borns don't have accidental magic large enough to get noticed, so they just ignore their existence. But on the occasions like these, they want to get rid of them, not wanting powerful muggle-borns around. Fortunately, the right side also notices these signs and knowing that the muggle-borns who made those signs are in danger, send out people to protect them, people like me.

After we are finished protecting those in danger we send them on their way because in their case it is better to remain ignorant of their talents than for them to try and go into a world where they are in great danger of being killed. It is better to just leave them to their lives. They will most likely not be noticed again." She sighed, taking a long look at Harry.

"This is an exception to that rule, I'm afraid. You are quite famous, or infamous, depending upon which side you look at it from, in the wizarding world. You have a significance I'd guess you have no idea about. Most of the time they let their monsters do their dirty work and leave it at that; they wouldn't follow up. However, now that I know where you are, Mr. Potter, your extended protections are null. It has happened by accident but now you can be easily found and that is not good because many of a bad sort are looking for you still, even after all these years and will be able to know that it was you who did that accidental magic.

Now that we know you are alive it is important that we keep you that way. I shall explain more of this later. For now I will go on. Now that your protections are down, you can't go home. Sadly, your friend can't go home either because the wrong side will quickly identify where Mr. Potter lives and then also quickly figure out who your friend is that was with you when the accidental magic occurred and torture her for information."

"What about my parents?" Hermione asked angrily.

"Yeah, what about the Dursleys?" Harry asked, though with less passion.

"We will make them leave, they will have to flee." Hermione opened her mouth in a rush but was cut of by Minerva. "I'm afraid that you can not flee with them. They will be looking for you specifically and you would just be putting them in more danger. You will have to stay magically protected."

Silence. Then Harry asked quietly, "Why are they looking for me?" He stared at McGonagal intensely, she stared back.

Almost whispering she explained that Harry's parents died protecting him from a very bad wizard. She said that Harry almost destroyed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and because he survived the attack from him he got the title The-Boy-Who-Lived. Since Voldemort was nowhere to be found, people credited Harry for ridding the world of him. Harry was placed under protections at his aunt's house and all was thought to be right with the world.

However, only three years after his supposed defeat, he returned, by possessing a person and stealing a stone that would bring him back to life. Once he was back to life he fully remade himself using some of the darkest magic known to wizards and completely returned to power. He quickly became the ruler of the wizarding world, killing all who opposed him. They no longer have any freedom or open joy. Now, the only blight on his reign of power is Harry. Now Harry is the only reminder of his weakness. He has been long looking for him- to kill him, to erase any doubt of his strength. Evidentially, Harry is their only hope.

A long moment of silence. Molly was leaning up against the counter, her hand on her chest, mouth hanging open in shock, staring at Harry. Minerva was staring at Harry, Harry was staring at her, his face stony. Hermione was looking at her hands concentrating.

"I think you're fucking insane." Harry said, staring at Minerva coldly. " My parents died in a car crash, I'm nobody's savior. I'm a nobody in general. My own family hates me. Now your telling me that I'm the only hope in some fucked up world? This is a nightmare, just take us home!" Harry got steadily louder as he talked, eventually yelling.

"You can not go home." Minerva said sadly and sternly.

"Fuck you. I don't believe you."

Hermione shook her head, speaking for the first time in a while, quietly. "The other day I picked up a book written for muggle-borns, which I assume are people like me and Harry?" Hermione raised her eyebrows at McGonagal.

"More or less." She said, frowning slightly.

"The chapters in the book were things like, 'The Boy-Who-Lived' and 'the death of Dumbledore'." McGonagal made a small sad sound, " 'Imperial and Martial Law', 'the return of'…of the name we aren't supposed to say." Hermione would have continued but Harry stood up abruptly.

"Whatever Hermione. Go along with this if you want to. I'm going. I don't need to hear this. Good luck with your world, Minerva, or with your craziness, whichever is real." He glared at everyone, including Molly, who was still standing, shocked and silent, in the corner and moved to the kitchen door. Minerva moved to stop him but it turned out to be unnecessary. The kitchen door suddenly opened, revealing a group of red headed people, all talking loudly.

"Oh, who is this?" One of them asked.

A/N Thank you very much to my new Beta Ev80


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